Counting Petals
by OrderofRice
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Harry's not at home. What's Draco to do but wait? Vignette.


**Title:** Counting Petals  
**Author:** Rice  
**Pairing:** Harry/Draco  
**Summary:** Draco waits. Vignette.  
**Notes:** Was written as a Birthday present for **Jetsam_Porridge** and as a Cheer-er upper for my friend **Maryam**. It's short. It's fluff. It's wildly OOC. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco waited.

He tapped his fingers on the cold of the kitchen table and waited. In front of him lay a perfectly ordered meal. A romantic dinner on Valentine's Day. A petal fell from the rose on the center of the table.

Draco sighed. 

Picking up the plates he took them into the kitchen. 

_Bloody Potter and his Ministry,_ he thought to himself. So what if Harry didn't know that he had prepared a romantic evening. And yes, he had describe Valentine's day as 'a product of Muggle consumer society, driven solely by their weak minded need for affection and exploited by their devil worshipping CEO's' but that didn't excuse Harry's absence on this night! 

It wasn't the first night, though, Draco reflected. Countless times Harry had returned home in the late hours of the night. Tired, hungry, collapsing into bed. It was almost routine for Draco, who bore it like any man would, silently. But also as any boyfriend would do, caring, accepting, now… he didn't want to think about it. There was never a time when Harry had been open to him, always behind that strong mask of bravado. There was never a time Harry had told him how much he loved him. Never showed it. _Never cared._

Leaving a pre-written note on the kitchen table he wandered into the living room and passed a picture of them standing outside the apartment, their first home. He always noted Harry's eyes in that picture, the only one to capture what he, Draco, saw everyday. His smile had always stayed the same, that carefree look of utter happiness. But it was his eyes, the emerald green almost darkened by the scenes he had witnessed. No one noticed this change in him, save his friends… and Draco.

Turning off the lights, Draco moved into the bedroom and taking out his usual silk Pyjamas he curled into bed. It was only 10 pm but he was sure Harry wouldn't be home that night, not until the early hours of the next day. With his trademark smirk completely absent from his face, Draco closed his eyes. 

* * *

Harry fumbled with his keys outside the apartment. He could never figure out which was the right, magically altered one. At last finding it, he came into the apartment and was surprised by the darkness that greeted him. It was only 10:30; surely Draco couldn't have gone to sleep. He almost tripped on the shoe rack in front of the doorway; Draco had a thing about wearing shoes in the house. 

Taking his own off he turned on the hall light and made his way into the kitchen for some food. He noticed two plates sitting on the bench top, covered in Muggle cling wrap, looking like a meal that took quite a bit of time to prepare. _Shit,_ he thought. He took one of the plates and saying a heating charm he took it to their dining table. There, he noticed a note, _Harry Potter_ inscribed onto the front of the envelope.

"Shit, shit, shit," he rightly said under his breath. He unfurled it; 

_Dear Harry, _

I want you to open your eyes. 

You. Don't. Love. Me. 

No more than you did when we met back before first year. No more than when I threatened your life in second year. No more than when you threatened mine in third. No more than when your eyes darkened after the final battle and you saw my face. 

You've never loved me, Harry. 

I want you to leave. 

However eternally bound I am, you are not. 

~ D.

Harry slumped into a chair. This was not happening. He re-read the words. There couldn't possibly be any truth behind this. 

He remembered back to first year, before they had arrived at Hogwarts, their meeting at Madame Malkin's. Harry had remembered that meeting countless times after. He was too young to recognise any of those feelings, but when he thought back, he had noticed this striking blonde boy; he had wanted to make friends with him. Until he heard him speak. But that didn't stop him from loving him. No. 

The last battle. His body scared, his mind in disarray, his face streaked with dirt. No tears. The world around him darkened after that battle. Save one thing. Draco. When he saw Draco approaching, lifting him up, taking him in his arms, when all he could hear was Draco's voice, his arms around his body, soothing away the hurt… there was nothing else that mattered. As long as there was this, there was a life worth living. 

And now, he'd ruined it. He'd pushed the only person he'd ever truly loved away and made him believe in what Harry considered to be almost blasphemous. There was never a point, after he realised his true feelings, that he hadn't loved Draco. He folded the letter and left it discarded on the kitchen top. 

* * *

Draco heard the bedroom door creak open. Harry came in trying to be quiet and failing miserably. Still, Draco kept up his façade of sleep. He felt Harry's hands trail lightly along the sheet covering his body. He tried hard not to let the involuntary shiver be noticed. A strand of hair was moved from Draco's face. And a rough hand cupped his chin. 

Draco let his eyes flutter open, seeing Harry's face close to his own. 

"How can you be so stupid sometimes, Draco?" he whispered, barely audible. 

Draco simply stared at Harry, unmoving. He felt Harry's lips descend on his own. At first he didn't respond, but with Harry's gentle urging he finally gave in, letting Harry's tongue meet with his own. It was the slowest kiss they had ever shared but the message, the feeling, was more than Draco had ever known. 

He ran his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him onto the bed. Neither ever wanting to even think of letting go again. 

  
  
  



End file.
